


What's in a Name

by Sekiraku



Series: Bed Rest [2]
Category: Weak Constitution: Common Cat
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Master/Pet, Master/Slave
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 21:13:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18972907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sekiraku/pseuds/Sekiraku
Summary: Takes place between Chapter 20 and Chapter 21 of Weak Constitution: Common Cat.





	What's in a Name

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Weak Constitution: Common Cat](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17302013) by [Awkward_Dragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awkward_Dragon/pseuds/Awkward_Dragon). 



Blue’s POV:

“I think I’m going to bring her a sachet of herbs. I hope she doesn’t think I’m trying to bribe her or curry favor, but it just seems like the right thing to do for a Herbology professor. Though it might be embarrassing to show a professional my work. I wonder what kinds of greenhouses they have at the Academia? Their selection probably puts my garden to shame. I wonder if students are allowed to take any seeds or cuttings home, come spring?”

Master’s voice is happy and excited. It relaxes me far more than the soft mattress under me or the blankets encircling me. There is no better guarantee of safety than a happy master.

Less relaxing is the content of his words. I know I should feel nothing but pleasure at the thought of something that makes my Master so happy, but I can’t help dreading the start of the school year. Master is so kind and generous in his ignorance of what is proper for the likes of me. Once he sees how the other familiars are treated, all of these indulgences will be stripped from me.

My thoughts are interrupted by a loud gurgle. Master’s words cut off and he rests a hand on his stomach, blushing a little.

“I suppose that means it’s time to start work on dinner,” he says with a laugh, and gets to his feet. At the threshold, he turns back to me. “Call if you need anything, all right? I’ll leave the door open, so I should be able to hear you from the kitchen.”

“Yes, Master.” I nod vigorously. It will probably take him a while to prepare and eat his dinner, so I ready myself to be alone with my thoughts for some time.

“Good.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll see you in a bit, Blue.”

The room feels cold and empty when Master leaves it, but I can’t help smiling at the use of my name.

 _Blue._ A word that means me. All my life, the words masters used to get my attention- _bitch, whore, slut,_ carved right into my skin- were not specific to me. Masters used them for all of us pets, and it was up to us to distinguish who was being summoned. This name is different. Even if I wasn’t the only slave here, if Master had a hundred familiars kneeling for him and he called “Blue,” it would mean me, only me. I hug myself under the blanket, trying to understand the warm, bursting feeling that swells in my chest at the thought. _I am Blue. Blue means me._

It makes everything new. I look down at my hand. _Blue’s hand._ I feel my tail. _Blue’s tail._ I run my fingers over my face. _Blue’s nose, Blue’s lips, Blue’s cheeks, Blue’s chin._ Of course it all belongs to Master, no less than it did to the masters who chose not to name me, but something about having a name to attach it all to makes it feel more like one body, not just scattered parts that only matter moment to moment.

If Master sells me, I think that’s what will hurt most- losing my name. Food and baths are glorious while they last, but then they’re gone. _Blue_ is fixed, like a little fireplace in my chest where I can warm myself and bask in the glow anytime I want.

I find myself looking around the room, cataloguing everything else that is blue. I take note of books, decorations, and best of all, the blanket my Master has tucked me under. I feel somehow connected to all of them. I never had anything to attach me to the physical world before. Sometimes it felt as if I moved through the world like a vapor, not joined to anything but whichever part of my aching, ravaged body hurt worst at the moment. By giving me this name, Master has granted me connections.

I know that attachment is only in my mind. I would never dare to touch these things without permission. But that connection remains- we are Blue, and we are Master’s. In my mind, I am running my fingers over the books, the decorations, the beautiful glass paperweight that almost glows in the light from the window.

The window.

I turn and look at the bright afternoon sky. It’s a glorious, rich blue, disturbed by only the slightest wisps of cloud, and I feel unexpected tears start in my eyes. I blink them back ferociously, unwilling to show my wonderful Master a tearstained face when he returns from his dinner, but I can do nothing about the wide grin that pulls my cheeks in unfamiliar ways.

I wish I was brave enough to speak out of turn and thank Master for choosing a name that lets me touch the sky.

 

Kara’s POV

As soon as I’m in the hallway, I let out a breath and slump against the wall. I’ve said more words in the last few hours than I would ordinarily say in two months. I’d feel less exhausted if I’d spent the day running from one end of the city to the other.

But it’s impossible to miss the way my chatter relaxes Blue. And really, it’s the least I can do. I know this bed rest is for his own good, but I can’t help feeling guilty. He must be so bored already, and this is only the first day.

I’m running some of my more labor-intensive recipes through my mind on my way to the kitchen. I’m not sure whether it’s because I want to treat Blue after his terrible day yesterday, or because I want a break from thinking of things to say to him. Either way, after what happened yesterday it seems unwise to leave him alone for too long. Better keep our meal simple.

When I’ve got some oil heating in a pan, I pull several cloves of garlic from their bulb. The strong scent is bracing as I crush them with the flat of a knife, then pick off the peels. I wash and dice several mushrooms along with the garlic, then set some pasta to boil and try to plan conversation topics that won’t be too traumatic for Blue.

“Where did you grow up?” “Chained in a basement, Master, of course! When will you be chaining me in yours, sir?”

“What’s your favorite food?” “The kind that you haven’t sprinkled with nausea-inducing powder yet, Master!”

“What would you like to do next weekend?” “I’d like it if you didn’t murder me, Master!”

The garlic and mushrooms are spitting and hissing in the oil. I start to pour wine into the pan, and only notice then that my hands are shaking.

_Murder._

Stars. _Stars._ He actually thought I was going to kill him last night. He thinks- I can’t even get my mind around it. I don’t know how to accept that in Blue’s head, I’m capable of having him executed on a whim. I feel like vomiting when I remember the way he cowered under the seats of the carriage, the way he curled in on himself, the horrible, horrible whimpering noises he was making. Not because he was delirious from infection, like I thought at the time, but because of me. Because he thought…

I’ve kept up an endless stream of chatter this afternoon, but the whole time I was grateful for Blue’s aversion to eye contact. I’m afraid of what he sees when he looks at me. Does he hate me? It would make sense if he did. He’s on a chain, and I hold the end of it. Still, some childish part of my brain keeps wailing, “But I was nice to you, wasn’t I?”

I had thought we were off to a good start. He seemed to like the food and the baths. I know I didn’t handle it well when he started mouthing at my crotch, but our meal went smoothly enough once he was actually in a chair and eating. He’d _purred_ for me; that’s where my mind keeps going. It was such a cute, happy noise. I had thought- well, clearly I’d been wrong. In Blue’s mind, I am one household accident away from dragging him off to his death.

Tears burn my eyes. What am I doing wrong? What threatening messages am I sending him with my body or my tone of voice, without even realizing it? Stars, when I let myself think about it, I want to stay down here forever where no one fears me or hates me. How can I be in the same room with him? How can I face him? What will I say, what will I do with my hands, it won’t matter, it will all be wrong, and he will think-

A bit of hot oil hits my arm. The tiny zing of pain is enough to disrupt my rapidly spiraling thoughts, and I grip the edge of the counter. _Breathe, Kara._

I focus on regulating my breathing. Once my mind has cleared a bit, I see that it’s time to add the cream, broth, and cheese to the pan. The task helps calm me, and by the time the cheese has melted into the rest of the sauce, the tightness around my chest has eased.

None of this is Blue’s fault. I can’t be hurt that he still thinks this way after less than three days with me. And what a three days it’s been…

Stars. I’m horrible for worrying about my own wounded feelings when he was sexually assaulted last night. Assaulted because I left him, no less. Why on earth should he trust me after that?

If I want Blue’s trust, I have to earn it. If that means chattering about nothing until my jaw falls off, well, that’s what I’ll do.

I load two plates with pasta and sauce, then prepare a quick salad and put it all on trays. In the hallway, I pause and make sure my body is relaxed and my face is arranged in a smile.

I make sure to rattle the dishes as I get close to the bedroom door so Blue can hear me coming. I consider stepping more heavily than usual, but dismiss the idea. He’d probably interpret it as angry stomping.

“M-Master!” Despite my precautions, Blue looks startled when I enter the room. “Forgive me, I d-didn’t expect you back so soon.”

“Goodness, Blue, what are you apologizing for?” It’s the wrong thing to say. His mouth opens, closes, opens again. I hastily step in. “I hope you like mushrooms. These needed to be used, but don’t worry. They’re still fresh.”

I set the tray with the plate I prepared on his lap. Blue gawps down at it, looking utterly flabbergasted. 

“There’s salad, too.” I grab the bowl and start heaping it on his plate. “Don’t worry, I may be trying to get some meat on your bones but I’m not just going to load you up with carbs.”

 _Kara. Stop._ I need to get hold of myself. If I let my nerves spiral much farther my hands will start shaking again. Blue is so attuned to my moods, there’s little doubt that my tension is already setting him on edge. I have to get a grip.

It becomes clear that Blue is not going to tell me when to stop heaping his plate with salad, so I force myself to withdraw and begin loading my own plate. That accomplished, I reclaim my seat next to the bed, balancing the tray on my knees. Stars, I am looking forward to eating off a table again.

“Go on.” I smile at Blue and spear some pasta with my fork. “Dinner is served.”

He doesn’t move as I pop the fork into my mouth. He just stares down at the tray in his lap as if he expects to find a venomous snake buried under the pasta. Is this about what happened this morning?

“Don’t worry about spilling on the sheets,” I tell him once I’ve swallowed. “If it happens, we can just wash them. No such thing as too-clean bedsheets.”

“Master.” He doesn’t stammer over the title like he usually does, but his voice is so tight and tense it sounds as if he’s being strangled. “You have already been generous enough t-to feed me today.”

Oh. “That was breakfast, Blue. This is dinner. Your body needs food if it’s going to mend.”

“I’ve never-” He breathes deeply and darts a frightened glance at me, still not daring to meet my eyes. I make sure my shoulders are relaxed. “Master, I’ve n-never heard of a familiar getting t-two meals in one day. Not even a favorite.”

I make my voice light and teasing. “Well, you’re the only one here. I think that makes you all of my favorites at once, doesn’t it?”

He gives a little shudder, and I could kick myself. Stars, that probably sounded like a come-on. I change tactics and adopt my most soothing tone.

“I told you, Blue. I don’t like to eat alone. That doesn’t just mean breakfast, it means every meal. You would be doing me a great service by eating with me.”

At that, his breathing steadies, his body relaxes, and he even lifts his chin a little. I wonder if I’m about to be graced with one of his shy, sweet smiles, but he speaks instead. “Of course, Master. I live to serve you.”

His tone is a little more fervent than I’m comfortable with, but I’m unwilling to risk disrupting his newfound confidence. He starts eyeing the plate with a ravenous look that hurts my heart. How could anyone starve something this gentle, this vulnerable?

“Go ahead, then.” I start to gesture with my fork, then stop myself. Waving sharp objects in his face seems like a good way to ruin this tentative peace. “Help yourself.”

I don’t have to tell him again. And if he gets some sauce on his face as he eats, well, that just makes him all the cuter.

I’m going to make this work. Whatever it takes.


End file.
